


Don’t Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me

by hollyand



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anders' Electricity Trick (Dragon Age), Crack, Doesn't matter - had sex, Humor, M/M, Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Sex Magic, Singing, Songfic, Top Anders (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 14:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30039834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyand/pseuds/hollyand
Summary: When Hawke thinks Anders is chatting up one of the Hanged Man’s barmaids, he decides to serenade him to get his attention. It works far better than anyone expects.
Relationships: Anders/Male Hawke (Dragon Age)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Don’t Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Hot Like Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ser_Thirst_A_Lot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ser_Thirst_A_Lot/gifts).



> Hope you like this smutty canon-divergent Toppy!Anders crackfic! (Nella is the barmaid Emile de Launcet sleeps with, by the way.) Just.... imagine a Kirkwall where the Pussycat Dolls' song "Don't Cha" exists XD 
> 
> (also please enjoy the very very brief, blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to the song "I Just Had Sex" by The Lonely Island feat. Akon at the end) ❤️ 
> 
> Recommended music listening for this fic: Um, it's obvious, surely XD

Three years. _Three years_ Garrett Hawke and Anders had been dancing around each other, attraction sizzling between them unacknowledged, and it wasn’t as if Hawke hadn’t _tried_. OK, OK, so maybe telling Anders that being possessed by Justice explained his whole sexy, tortured look just after Karl had died, hadn’t been the _wisest_ move Hawke had ever made; but did his flirting count for _nothing_ all this time?

He fancied Anders, and could see the healer fancied him. And yet… here he was in the Hanged Man, playing cards with Varric, watching Anders at the bar talking to Nella, one of Corff’s serving-girls. This wasn’t the first time it had happened; Nella was very popular among the Hanged Man’s male patrons, and for some reason, she’d had her latest sights set on Anders these past few weeks, and had been flirting with him every single opportunity she could.

Perhaps it was the chance to break down the man’s walls, and make him finally succumb to her charms in the end. Hawke understood that. He felt the same way.

The music was playing over the hubbub of cheerful, drunken chatter, but all Hawke could focus on, amber eyes narrowed in envy, was the scene involving Anders some metres away from him. Nella was leaning across the counter, batting her eyelashes at the man, plunging neckline exposing her cleavage, breasts on display in her tight beige top; and Anders… well, it was hard to tell how the healer was responding to her advances, but it made Hawke wish he were in Nella’s place, exposing his own impressive chest with chest-hair to rival Varric’s, and batting his _own_ eyelashes at the man.

‘You know,’ Varric finally said, after Hawke uncharacteristically lost yet another hand through his absent-mindedness, ‘if you _really_ wanna go talk to Blondie _this_ much, I don’t mind if we stop. But you still owe me, Hawke. You’re four sovereigns down already.’

‘Why won’t he notice me, Varric?’ Hawke whined. ‘I _know_ he likes me. I’ve _seen_ the way he looks at me. He even laughs at my jokes! Why is he still holding back?’

‘I dunno, Hawke.’ Varric tried not to sound too exasperated; as fond as he was of his hairy human friend, he’d heard this subject come up a _lot_ over the years. ‘Why don’t you go over there and find out?’

Hawke looked as if he was about to object; but then, suddenly a familiar beat came on, as the band in the corner of the tavern started to play a new song; and when a busty, scantily-clad singer took to the podium, Hawke’s face lit up, as if he’d suddenly got a bright idea.

 _Uh-oh,_ thought Varric. He recognised that look. _Knowing Hawke, this is either going to be absolutely brilliant, or utterly terrible_.

‘Wish me luck, Varric,’ Hawke said, downing the last of his drink and standing up, ‘I think I’m going to go over there and seduce him.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Varric replied, gathering up the cards; he’d heard his apostate friend say this before, and it had ended in failure every time – the last time had involved shooting ice magic at Blondie to ‘make him melt’, only to get hit with one of the man’s specialist fireballs (Blondie’s reflex reaction to an unknown attacker), and end up in Anders’s clinic for some very painful healing. ‘And, uh, how are you gonna do it this time, my friend.’

‘Oh don’t worry, Varric,’ Hawke grinned at him through his dark beard. ‘I have an _excellent_ sense of dramatic timing. And good hair. This can’t possibly fail.’

Varric sighed and chuckled affectionately. ‘And what magic are you hoping to use on him _this_ time, Hawke.’

Hawke’s grin got wider. ‘The magic of singing.’

Before Varric could even groan, the singer started the opening lyrics.

_I know you like me,  
I know you do,  
That’s why whenever I come around  
She’s all over you _

Hawke moved smoothly, like a cat, weaving in and out of the drunken patrons and around their tables, hips wiggling in the most ill-advised seduction Varric had ever seen, as he sang along loudly and tunelessly to the band. By this point, Anders had noticed Hawke shimmying across the bar to him, bum wriggling from side to side, and stared in open-mouthed disbelief as Hawke waggled his eyebrows, slicked back his hair and pointed at Anders at the appropriate parts of the song.

 _And I know you want it  
It’s easy to see  
And in the back of your mind_— and here Hawke sidled right up to Anders with a knowing look, — _I know_  
_You should be ON with me_

Varric had to try and stop himself either laughing or shouting ‘Hawke _no_ ’ as Hawke waggled his eyebrows again, squirmed in front of Nella (who shouted at him as he rudely barged her out of the way), and practically hollered the chorus in Blondie’s face.

_Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was HOT like me?_  
_Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a FREAK like me?_  
_Don’t cha?_

‘Hawke,’ Anders began, as Hawke moved his head from side to side and continued singing about if Anders wished his ‘girlfriend’ was ‘raw like me’ and ‘fun like me’, ‘Hawke. Please – stop this. You’re embarrassing yourself.’

‘But why?’ Hawke pleaded, as the band continued with the second verse; Hawke could feel the man’s body heat radiate off him, the tell-tale sign of his affinity for fire magic, and with Nella having thrown her hands up and walked away in defeat, Hawke was determined to know what he was doing wrong all this time. ‘We both know you want me, Anders. You even said it yourself – you’re still a man, and I shouldn’t expect you to resist forever. What am I doing wrong?’

Anders sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Hawke. Let’s go somewhere more private and talk about this.’

And that was how Hawke found himself in Corff’s dusty backroom for storage behind the bar, telling Anders he didn’t want him to resist.

Anders made a strangled noise of frustration. ‘Fine, Hawke. As long as this is what you want.’

‘ _Want?_ ’ Hawke practically shrieked, before deciding to play it cool and carry on with his earlier seduction. He waggled his eyebrows again in what he hoped was a sexy manner, and he swore Anders’s warmth got so hot he almost _glowed_. ‘I mean – I want whatever you’re ready to give me,’ he added in a low, sultry voice.

‘That does it,’ Anders cried, and before Hawke could use any of his muscular strength to resist, Anders kissed him passionately, desperately, and Hawke kissed him back just as desperately, moaning into the man’s mouth how much he wanted him until their tongues tangled, wet and sloppy and delicious. 

And then – quite suddenly – Anders flipped him round and bent him over a barrel.

‘Oooh,’ Hawke exclaimed in surprise, before he realised what was happening; but then wiggled his bottom against the other mage’s trouser-bulge when he _did_. ‘ _Oooh_. Yes _please_ , Anders.’

Anders hooked his long, slender fingers in the waist-band of Hawke’s trousers, but before he could pull them, Hawke yanked them down, waving his exposed bum in the air to signify just how _ready_ he was to _take_ whatever Anders was ready to give him. Hawke very rarely bottomed, but something about how the blond healer left him a quivering, gibbering wreck… and also left him with an insane desire to know what it was like to be taken by Anders, even just once.

Hawke heard the sound of a stopper being popped out of a bottle and set on a box to the side; and then, Anders slowly and carefully inserted a well-oiled finger into Hawke’s excited hole.

Hawke hissed his pleasure and triumph at getting Anders to succumb to his dubious ‘charms’ at last, only to yelp when Anders administered a gentle electric shock.

‘Just teasing,’ Anders said, smoothly, his gentle voice and honeyed tones more confident than Hawke had ever heard him. ‘The electricity trick. Always wanted to know if I’d still got it after all these years.’

‘Yesssssss,’ Hawke breathed as the mild electric current subsided to a crackle, and then a pleasant vibrating sensation in and around his hole. His cock jolted, and he shifted to accommodate for it, bent as he still was over a wooden barrel of (no doubt rat-flavoured) whiskey in the Hanged Man’s storage room. Anders slid a second finger in, and then a third; and when Hawke was bucking against him desperately, whimpering about wanting to be taken, Anders sighed and relented.

‘Alright, Hawke.’

If Hawke himself wasn’t almost a quivering wreck bent over a barrel he’d have punched the air in delight; instead he sighed in relief as Anders pushed his well-lubricated cock into his arse, groaning as his shaft inched in all the way, and Hawke pushed against him to encourage him to move.

‘Fuck me,’ Hawke begged him; he almost couldn’t believe this was happening, but the delicious fullness in his butt said otherwise. ‘Hard, Anders.’

It wasn’t like Hawke to beg like a Blooming Rose whore, but Hawke had been aching for Anders as long as the other man had done for him; and if they were to finally get it on at last Hawke really didn’t care which way or how it was done. Thankfully, the other apostate was ready to answer his prayers.

Anders thrust into him, gently at first, almost as if testing whether Hawke’s hole could take it, then started to _pound_.

Hawke let out a string of gabbled nonsense, delight, surprise, pleasure, arousal all rolled into one, as Anders continued to fuck him like his life depended on it; and when he reached around to use electricity magic on Hawke’s weeping, erect cock it was all Hawke could do not to scream his pleasure even before he came. Hawke could swear Anders’s body temperature was rising with each hard thrust, and it took all his concentration to reach for his mana and cast a gentle cooling effect over his own skin, not quite ice like Anders was not quite fire, but enough to freshen them briefly before they got carried away.

Anders hammered Hawke’s backside, heated thighs _slap-slap-_ slapping loudly against the flesh of Hawke’s rump, until Hawke exploded in orgasm with a roar of ecstasy, thick ejaculate spurting in long ropes across the room and across several barrels, spattering everything in sticky, milky liquid. Anders himself climaxed shortly afterwards, groaning loudly as he filled Hawke up, pumping him full of warm cum, and Hawke giggled stupidly at the sensation of him being filled to the brim with the other man’s essence.

He would treasure this, the remains of Anders’s juice in his hole; and the sensation and thought of it made his own peak last that much longer, as they both continued to rut like animals in heat, groaning the rest of their orgasms out as the aftershocks ebbed away, leaving them connected in sticky post-coital bliss.

When Hawke came to, giggling stupidly and happily, his peace was shattered by Corff’s angry voice as the barman entered the storage-room behind his bar at last.

‘What are you two doing here?’ he yelled, as Anders withdrew from Hawke’s hole with a _plop_ , and Hawke felt the rivers of cum gush out of him as he hastily stood and pulled his trousers up. ‘For fuck’s sake. Out! Out now! And don’t come back to the Hanged Man!’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Anders began, pulling his own trousers up as Hawke started with a jaunty and cheerful: ‘Look, I can explain…’

‘I don’t want to hear your explanations,’ shouted a furious Corff, wrinkling his nose both at the scent of sex on the air and the sight of the mess Hawke had made all over his barrels of whatever dubious alcoholic content they contained. ‘Get out. You two are officially banned from the Hanged Man.’

The pair of them sheepishly made their way out of the tavern before Corff had them physically thrown out; but unlike Anders, after his initial embarrassment at being caught red-handed (and red-cheeked), Hawke couldn’t help walking through the tavern with his head held high and a spring in his step. Patrons wolf-whistled, and Nella stood open-mouthed in shock, but Hawke didn’t care. _Doesn’t matter_ , _had sex_ , he thought as he smugly beamed at them all, following Anders out the door and onto the street.

Later Hawke would persuade Varric to use his silver tongue to coax (or bribe) Corff to forgive them and let them back in; but for now, Hawke claim victory. He’d broken down Anders’s resistance and got the man to fuck him, even _use his electricity trick on him_ , the evidence of this leaking into his underpants – and the next time he saw Nella, Hawke mused, he was definitely going to lord it over her.


End file.
